4 - Unbroken Read online

  It was addictive, that power. And dangerous.

  Especially now.

  Luis tried to cut the connection as his eyes widened in surprise. “No, you can’t.…” He knew how dangerous it was to use power now, and he also knew I had not done it lightly. “Cassiel, stop—”

  I poured the power out again, through my fingertips, bathing his wound in a flood of healing energy.

  It hurt. And it was glorious.

  Luis collapsed against the tree trunk behind him and slid down, eyes closing as a moan escaped his suddenly pallid lips. I helped cushion some of the shock, but I couldn’t stop the pain; the infection had crept deep into him overnight, unusually fast and deadly, and it took concentration to seek it and burn it out of him. That didn’t stop the sensations that continued to squeeze him in their grip, though—complex waves of heat, cold, orgasm, agony. The tissues of his damaged artery knitted together in strong, rubbery layers over the thin patch that had held him through the night, and then the muscles and outer layers of skin bonded over it.

  I didn’t stop until he was healed.

  As the last cells absorbed the healing energy, I let the connection whisper closed between us; I’d consumed much of Luis’s reserves, and my own as well, but it had to be done. I couldn’t bear to think of him suffering any longer.

  Odd, how that had taken over from concern for myself—the only concern I’d had for so many millennia.

  Now, in the wake of that urgency, I found myself swaying on my knees, falling, and caught in Luis’s strong hands. It felt good. Safe. The pleasure I’d felt in channeling all that effusion of power was gone now, and in its place was an aching emptiness, a weariness that descended like nightfall and make me feel weak, lost, alone.

  Luis gathered me against his chest, and I let my head fall against his chest. “Shhh,” he whispered to me, and smoothed my leaf-littered hair. “Thank you, Cass. But you shouldn’t have done that. You know you shouldn’t have.”

  “No choice,” I whispered back. I felt as bloodless and ill as he’d been before. “Infection. It would have killed you.”

  “I know.” The calm with which he said it surprised me, and he smiled a little. “Death ain’t no new thing for me, chica. It’s kind of what we were born for, humans. Never expected to live long, as a Warden. Not expecting to survive these next few days, for damn sure. None of us should.”

  The words were sober, the tone kind. I felt a chill, listening to him; he had a calm conviction that was difficult to comprehend. We were not so given to the inevitable, we Djinn. We liked to be the inevitable, not its victims. Humans had a kind of courage I’d never truly understood: the courage to face their own doom.

  I didn’t know if Djinn had that same bravery; we’d never been called on to use it, if so. Suffering, we understood, but obliteration was something else again. We could neither fully comprehend it, nor accept it.

  “We’ve had some differences lately,” Luis continued. “Said things, done things… but, Cassiel, I want you to know that it doesn’t matter now. None of that. All that matters is that I love you. Understand?”

  He meant it. I could feel the warm, steady pressure of his stare, and the surge of emotion inside him. He did love me, with all the fragile power of his human soul.

  I smiled slowly and said, “I understand.” I did not tell him I loved him, but I did not need to do so; he could feel it, flowing between us like the golden-hot energy of the Earth. The Djinn love intensely, and rarely, and I was still shy of admitting what I felt aloud… but he knew.

  He leaned forward and kissed me, a warm, damp brush of his lips that turned serious and deep as I leaned forward into it. It was not the time, or the place, for such things, but I felt frantic with the need to tell him, without words, how valuable his life was to me.

  “Easy,” Luis whispered, and put his warm hands on either side of my head. “Peace, Cass. This isn’t the time for any good-byes.”

  I took in a deep breath and nodded. Here, in the calm before the storm that was to come, was the only time to say our good-byes, but I understood that once we did, once we let go of each other on some fundamental level, it would rob us of energy we might need to survive. As long as we fought for each other, for Isabel, we had a chance.

  “Then we should be moving,” I said, and got to my feet. I offered him a hand, but he rose easily, testing his leg and nodding approval. “No pain?”

  “Eh, a little. Not enough to matter. Good job. So… where are we going, exactly?”

  It was a dangerous tactic, but I decided to forego Oversight and rise up directly into the aetheric; it took a frightening lot of effort to do so. I’d spent most of my reserves of power in healing Luis, and detaching myself from physical form and drifting into the next realm seemed a huge accomplishment. I drifted there, recovering, and then propelled myself up, higher, deeper into the aetheric plane.

  The forest in which we were physically located was unchanged… a deep well of living green, shot through with vertical splashes of brown and gold, an impressionist’s view of trees and grass. Living things glittered and shimmered as they moved through the protection of the branches. I saw Luis’s aetheric form there below, glowing in blues and whites. Next to him was my own physical form, but gone gray without my inhabiting spirit. Isabel was an opal-brilliant swirl of colors a few feet away, and there, streaking smoothly through the trees, was a poisonously green figure that could only be Esmeralda.

  We were alone here.

  I turned my gaze outward, over a confusing jumble of colors and shapes, ever changing, driven by human events as much as nature. Change is the fundamental principle of all living things, but humanity makes it an obsession, a religion. Today, however… Today it was dwarfed by the explosion of bloodred, bruise black energy cascading up from all sides. Mother Earth’s rage and pain glittered in the heavens like cutting-hard rain. It turned in angles in the air, held high and ready to fall.

  I felt cold and small, seeing that. When that storm fell, the world would end for mankind, in blood and slaughter.

  I saw the roil of colors on the horizon that marked a Warden battling back the powers of the Mother—a useless victory in an entirely foregone war, but the Wardens, like all humans, simply never gave up. They couldn’t. Djinn could, and did, withdraw to other realms. Humans had only this one. They were committed, until death.

  And some were dying, right now, as I watched. I could see the vicious snaps of Djinn responses to the Wardens’ attempts to control the fire that was blazing its way relentless toward a helpless population center. With the fuel of Mother Earth’s anger behind it, the flames couldn’t be contained by normal human firefighting methods; it would burn things that ought not to burn, and spread like oil on water.

  The Wardens were few, and brave. And they were dying.

  As I watched, more Fire Wardens joined in, though their powers were limited by distance. It would not be enough, and surely they all knew it. Any effective defense would be smashed by the shock troops of the Djinn, now fighting not for themselves and their own agenda, but in defense of, and at the command of, Mother Earth.

  I had felt it before, that ecstatic possession, the loss of self and identity. It was, for the Djinn, euphoric and beautiful—for most of them, at any rate. Those with a fondness for the human race, of specific individuals… those would be trapped in a miserable horror, forced to feel pleasure at their own actions against humanity, yet still retaining some core of self deep inside that fought. I thought of David, reluctant leader of the Djinn descended from humans, and shuddered. His ties to the human world were deep and constant. He loved a Warden, a woman whom he would inevitably face in a battle to the death now.

  All stories eventually end in tragedy, but that was more tragic than most.

  Luis’s touch on my shoulder drew me back down, and I fell into my body with a snap of sudden sensation as nerves and muscles woke and complained of my absence. “How bad?” he asked quietly.

  “A wildfire in the
forest. The city’s already lost, though they’ll fight to the last.” My voice was soft, and a little sad. Some part of me, some Djinn part, craved that experience, the wild and furious power, the lack of responsibility for my own actions. Glorious destruction.

  “What city?” Luis was already digging out his map from the pack he’d somehow managed to carry strapped on his shoulders during our mad run through the forest last night. The map was waterproofed in plastic, which was a lucky thing, as rain was starting to fall now from the gently gray sky in a soft, steady mist. Luis spread it out on a log and looked at me questioningly.

  My knowledge of human geography was sketchy, at best, and I studied the flat lines and names uncertainly.

  Isabel appeared at my shoulder and pointed decisively. “Portland,” she said. When we both glanced her way, she shrugged. “Fire Warden,” she said. “I can feel it.” She frowned a little, at the dot on the page, and her fingertip touching it. “I’ve been sending them power, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. Do you?”

  I silently shook my head.

  “Any Earth Wardens working it? Weather?” Luis asked.

  “Five Earth Wardens,” I said. “And Lewis Orwell is working from a distance. I could see his aura from here.” Lewis was the most powerful Warden alive today, but even he couldn’t stop what was coming. Not by brute force. “He’s managing the evacuation, such as may be possible. But there will be loss of life.”

  It was a still, quiet morning, and it was the beginning of the end of the human world.

  The three of us stood in silence for a moment, considering that, and then Luis cleared his throat and said, “We need a plan, and I got nothing.”

  “I do,” Ibby said. “You won’t like it, but—”

  “Hush,” I said, but I didn’t even know why, in that moment, except that a feeling had crawled over my skin, an instinct as primitive as fear of the dark. Predator, something whispered to me. Danger.

  The forest had gone quiet. Luis started to speak, but I held out my hand to silence him and listened, head down.

  When the attack came, it came with the suddenness and ferocity of a bolt of lightning. There was no gradual gathering of power, no sense of a warning—only a sudden, shocking, overwhelming blast of fury, power, and hatred.

  I had no time to prepare, but something in me, some vestige of Djinn, had gathered up such power as I still had, and flung it outward in defense. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t stop the Djinn that rushed at me, but it did slow her, just enough to allow me to grab Luis and Ibby and drag them down, straight down, into the living earth. I didn’t have enough power left to sustain us, and unlike a Weather Warden, I couldn’t draw air to us once we were buried in the smothering, softened ground.

  But I didn’t need to. Isabel and Luis, after a shocked second of adjustment, both added power to our flight through the ground, and the three of us swam around rocks, through the gnarled traps of tree roots, diving down and then up through the black gritty soil. I hardened the ground behind us as we rolled up into the open air, gasping and coughing, and sealed it behind us.

  It wouldn’t save us for long. The Djinn had senses we couldn’t imagine, and powers we couldn’t match. We needed help, powerful help.

  “Ground yourselves!” I shouted, and grabbed both Luis’s hand and Isabel’s, as the two of them drew power out of the thick taproot of the world’s energy. It should have come as a thick flow, like honey, but instead it was a geyser of power, blasting into Luis, into Isabel, channeling through me into a blinding, crippling burst. A shield burst out around us, a thick pearlescent shell that crackled and sizzled.…

  And on the other side, I saw a form striding out of the mist, heading for us with relentless, steady speed. It was indistinct for a moment, and then took on shape and color. He was tall, lean, and with skin an unsettling indigo color, and silver eyes.

  The Djinn Rashid had not developed an appreciation for human clothing since last I’d seen him, but his nakedness did not seem to me to make him vulnerable, or weak; instead, it made him seem eerily invincible.

  As he was.

  “Rashid!” I called, but even as I did, I knew it was useless. That was the shell of the Djinn I had known, but not the essence of him; his uniqueness had been displaced, overridden by the madness and need of our mutual mother.

  He held out both hands toward us as he continued that steady advance, and an intense white-hot fire poured out of his hands toward us. It met the shell we’d thrown up, and the thin protection hissed, sizzled, went opaque beneath the incredible power of the onslaught. Around us, trees were burning, bursting as their sap boiled within. We’d be dead in seconds once the shield failed.

  Inside the bubble, things were not good either… of the three of us, none had Weather talents, and the temperature and quality of the air trapped within rapidly degraded into a molten, sour mess. It would be a close race to see which would destroy us first: fire, seared lungs, or simple asphyxiation. But fighting Rashid, or any Djinn, was a desperate gamble now; he had infinite resources and few vulnerabilities. Attacking him was our only real option, but we’d be cruelly exposed for a few seconds, and it wouldn’t take him that long to finish us.

  I didn’t count Rashid as a friend, exactly, but he’d been an ally, a strong (if sometimes treacherous) one. If I could reach that part of him, perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance we might survive this.

  I had to try. Dying inside our own shield had no glory at all.

  I didn’t tell Luis or Isabel what I was doing; there was no time for the inevitable debate. I took in a hot, searing breath, sent out a silent prayer to whatever power watched over wayward, fallen Djinn, and yanked my hands free of theirs to break the circuit.

  The bubble around us shattered, and I put my hands flat on the backs of my lover and his niece and shoved them facedown into the leaf litter of the forest, then sprang up out of my crouch and straight for Rashid. I had no facility with fire, but one of the two Wardens I’d left behind me managed to counter his attack for a split second, just enough to put me close enough to grab him.

  It was a suicidal tactic, but all I had left. I wouldn’t allow him to kill those I loved in front of me, not as long as I had breath in me.

  The silent, peaceful forest was now a vision of hell. I could feel the fury and pain of the Earth vibrating through the ground, pouring out of the burning, mutilated trees. The fire cast a ruddy glow over the mist, turning it bloody even as the heat burned it away, and in the unnatural flames Rashid’s skin looked blue-black, his eyes as hot as molten metal.

  I held his hands apart and out from his body, and fire poured from his fingertips to ignite the fallen leaves piled around us.

  “Rashid!” I shouted, and pulled myself closer to him, body-close, feeling the feverish intensity of the Mother through his skin. “Rashid, stop! You must stop!” I was using physical contact, trying to waken his individuality, his memories, his conscience. I saw a flicker in those unnatural eyes, just a bare second, and I knew he was still there. Trapped, fighting, but there.

  He couldn’t win the battle any more than I could, though. We were still allies, but helpless to reach each other.

  I was going to die. So would Luis and Isabel.

  No. Not that. Not now, now, after all the fight and pain and blood. I would not allow that.

  I pulled power from the Earth beneath me—not the sentient power of the Mother herself, but the silent, pulsing well of her blood, her energy, her life. I could reach it only through my connection to Luis, but he’d locked it fully open now, and although it was direly dangerous I consumed as much as I could pull, fast and painfully dragging it through Luis’s fragile human form as he lay on the smoldering leaves.

  I used myself as a lens and blasted it on through Rashid’s body, sweeping away the influence of the Mother, just for a single fierce moment.

  The fire stuttered and stopped its rush from his hands, leaving only floating cinders, and Rashid’s eyes cleared, blinked, and f
ocused directly on mine.

  “I can’t,” he whispered. He sounded shaken, more vulnerable than I’d ever heard a Djinn to be. “I’m sorry, Cassiel. I can’t do it. I’m going to kill you. All of you. And I don’t want that.”

  I sensed a presence behind him, twisted and dark, slithering up in the confusion of burning vegetation. He didn’t; he was focused on me, on the distraction I had inadvertently provided.

  I held his gaze. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, very sadly, and then looked over his shoulder. “Do it now.”

  Esmeralda rose up behind him, a terrifying specter of twisted nature. Her eyes were slits of gold and black, and her fangs had appeared, cruelly sharp and curved, jeweled with venom.

  She struck so rapidly I never saw her move; suddenly her fangs were buried in the hollow of Rashid’s neck, her reptilian eyes burning into mine from the distance of mere inches, and I saw her jaws work, forcing in the venom.

  Rashid screamed and tried to turn, but I held him still. Those silver eyes rolled up, turned pure white, and I felt him grow limp in my grip, dragging me down with him. He collapsed into the burning leaves, and I rolled free.

  Isabel climbed to her feet, extended her hands, and began extinguishing the flames. Fire is a living thing itself, growing and consuming, and like any creature it will fight for its existence; Isabel needed help, but I lingered where I was, looking down at Rashid. He lay silent and limp, eyes open and white.

  There was a rustle in the leaves, and Esmeralda rose up next to me, swaying on her snakelike body. She wiped silvery blood from her pretty mouth, staring down at her victim with an avid hunter’s gleam in her now-human eyes. “He tastes like the Mother,” she said, and licked her lips. “Like life and death and power. I could get used to that.”

  “No,” I said softly. “You couldn’t. Is he dead?” He looked dead, and although I had reconciled myself to the idea that many, many worthy souls would perish today, it hurt like raw open wounds, seeing him so still and… broken.